


More Than One Way To Drown

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Drown Malcolm Reed Month, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Reeds die at sea. (10/30/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: 2.03 "Minefield."  
  
NOT A DEATHFIC, just so you know. ;-) This was written in response to the 'an Education of Heroes' challenge over at the fabulous Enterprise Write Brigade list. I should be working on many, many other things, but the bunny latched on to my ankle and this is what resulted. As the challenge title suggests, we were asked to explore an aspect of one of the ENT character's early education, and how it related to who they ended up being, and their role on the *Enterprise.* I chose Malcolm. (Of course.)  


* * *

At night. The water—

Dark, like the sky is dark, but worse, somehow. No stars; moonlight barely reflected. The whole world is like a maw, gaping...

Malcolm Reed stands at the beach's edge, at the point where the water touches the sand. His feet shift as the sand moves, as the waves roll in, roll back. His pant legs are cuffed up above his ankles; his skin, white in the moonlight. His feet are cold from the salt caress of the waves. The wind is wet from the ocean, tasting like tears.

His hands are clasped behind his back: parade rest. The water crashes in, sighs back. Crashes in...

His father has spent most of his life on ships. Metal decks, no point in walking quietly. It's easy to hear when Stuart Reed comes up behind him. His footsteps, the way he grinds his presence into the sand. _I am here_. No room for argument.

He stands behind his son. He is impossible to ignore, even silent. His breath, his presence is like the waves: sighing in, whispering back, and crashing—

"I read the letter."

Malcolm looks at the ocean, waiting.

"When are you leaving?"

"A fortnight," Malcolm says. His voice isn't loud, but it carries because of the water. He doesn't turn around. His father stands behind him like a giant.

A pause, like an accusation. "You didn't tell me."

Malcolm half turns. His father is barely visible in the moonlight. "You wouldn't understand."

"I understand, all right—you're afraid."

Behind his back, Malcolm's hands clench. The water rasps angrily over his feet. "You know I can swim."

"Not well," his father says, "not like your sister."

"Well enough to serve on a ship."

"Yes." a shrug, barely noticeable. "But you're not. You're running."

Malcolm has turned all the way around now. His back is to the water, the dark form of his father in front of him. "I'm not required to share your dreams."

Stuart laughs sharply—the sound is cold. " _My_ dreams?" Offended. "When weren't they _yours_? When did that stop?"

Quietly: "they were never mine."

"You're lying."

His father sounds so shocked, almost horrified, and Malcolm wants to tell him _you've never seen me. You've never known who I am_. But, "no," is all he says, "This is what I want."

His father makes a noise halfway between disgust and pain. He steps forward, his boots gouge out footprints in the sand. Now he stands next to Malcolm but he doesn't look at him. Instead his eyes search the horizon, the empty line where black sky meets black water.

"You're not the only Reed who's been afraid of the water," the admission is sudden, startling.

"I'm not afraid of the water," Malcolm says immediately. His face heats with shame, the salt spray stings it.

"But you're afraid of drowning, right?" Stuart nods to himself; Malcolm can only just see it with the moonlight. His father still doesn't look at him. "It's the same thing, isn't it? There's only one way to drown."

Malcolm says nothing. His feet are very cold now, but he won't back out of the water, doesn't dare.

"You're great uncle was afraid." His father continues, "Never did learn how to swim." He shakes his head, and in the dark Malcolm can't tell if it's with admiration or incredulity. "He joined up anyway, wouldn't let his fear control him." Stuart finally turns towards his son, but his eyes are invisible. "He was a hero."

Malcolm takes a deep breath. It feels almost like coming up for air; the memory is terrible. "It's not because I'm afraid."

His father just looks at him for a long time. Malcolm can feel his eyes on him, even if he can't see them: hard as stones. "Then why?"

"You wouldn't understand."

It seems a very long time that Stuart Reed says nothing. Malcolm trembles slightly—it's quite cold now—and he is very careful so his father won't hear his shuddering as he breathes.

"You're right," Stuart says at last, "I wouldn't understand. I don't understand." His father's voice is quiet, and somehow that's even worse than his anger.

"You can join Starfleet, if you must," he says, "if that's what you have to do." He steps forward, his boots in the water now, and he puts his hand on his son's shoulder and it's a warning: "but it had better not be because you're afraid. Not you. Not my son. Reeds are not cowards—we don't run away from our fears. We face them." He sighs. "I never want to hear that you left—that you left Earth because you were afraid."

"It's not," Malcolm says. He can feel the heavy warmth of his father's hand through his shirt, and wants to cover it with his own. He knows the skin will have weight, be rough with calluses. But he doesn't. It might be perceived as weakness. And he still has so much to prove.

"It's not because I'm afraid." He says it like his father would, with conviction. "I'm not leaving because I'm afraid."

His father nods. "Well, all right," he says. "That's all right, then." Stuart's hand rests on his shoulder for just another moment, then it's gone and the cold rushes back in. He turns and begins walking back up the path to the house. He doesn't look back, and he doesn't ask his son to follow him.

Malcolm watches, as his father fades into the dark.—-

He has always loved space.

Darker, so much colder than the ocean. There are eons of nothingness between the stars. Dark on dark, nothing like water. And yet the same...

There is life hidden here, in the depths.

Life, and danger, and death—

It's fitting, he thinks; the way that irony is fitting. That he'll die because his ship struck a mine.

Or because a mine struck his ship. A small distinction. But important.

He is outside a submarine, but they are above a shore. A shore they will never get to because the area is mined. There are strangers here, floating in ships he can't see; if _Enterprise_ doesn't leave soon, they'll all die.

His great uncle, who faced his fear of drowning, died in water. But everyone else on board lived; he made sure of that.

Everyone else on board will live. He likes the symmetry of that. He likes symmetry. Like echoes: The Reed line will end here, but at least he'll die properly. There's something to be said for tradition.

His father, he thinks. His father might even be proud.

So he waits. He's not afraid. He was right all along, all these years: He left the Earth, he left the ocean; but it was never because he was afraid.

In another moment Archer will turn his back. His hand is already tugging at his air hose.

In the end, he's discovered, there's more than one way to drown.


End file.
